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mouse from merced
Trad climber
The finger of fate, my friends, is fickle.
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[Click to View YouTube Video]I could find no videos on the Tube with Shakey Johnson playing his banjo for pizza dough.
"Old Shakey's here no mo'
He sold out long ago."
"Scoot the benches and tables back,
We'll dance and sing there'll be no lack
Of fun and singin' and endless games
For are we not the good old Flames?"[Click to View YouTube Video]
Yak's on the Five?
Shakes alive! O my!
It'll never fly.
Au contraire, yaks attract flies.
Very NOT SAN-O!
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throwpie
Trad climber
Berkeley
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Went to Valley Uprising in Berkeley last night...there was a lot about a bunch of guys from LA, but no mention of the Flames. I guess our undercover techniques worked.
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mouse from merced
Trad climber
The finger of fate, my friends, is fickle.
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Intercede for us, if you please.
NO? He said NO?
Dang! Double dang!
Can it at least be acoustic? PLEASE?
[Click to View YouTube Video]
Throwpie, we were all a little shy back then...at least twice.
But you had Peggy all along. Lucky guy, lucky guy.
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zBrown
Ice climber
Brujò de la Playa
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As if nuclear contamination was not enough of a risk, I almost got hit by lightening at San Onofre one day.
Singed this old guy's hair off.
If you don't live here, don't poop here.
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throwpie
Trad climber
Berkeley
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From another time, somewhere between SF and Santa Cruz
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mouse from merced
Trad climber
The finger of fate, my friends, is fickle.
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Good intro, Gnome, for the Hoosier Poet.
But first, an essay by the author of Rabbit Run!, John Updike.
JW Riley
Fed up with his son’s neglect of his schoolwork and concerned that he become self-sufficient, the father of poet James Whitcomb Riley apprenticed him to a local sign painter. [He was fourteen.] After learning the fine points of sign-lettering and ornamental painting, he opened his own shop with a shingle reading “Fancy Painter, Delineator and Caricaturist.”
Conjoining his rhyming and visual talents, Riley made signs of advertising jingles. (One began, “Fine! FINE! SUPER-FINE!!! / Paints and oils and turpentine,” and concluded, “Painted by a friend of mine / who boasts the name of Riley.”)
He formed a partnership with several other young men, the Graphic Advertisers, and went on the road.
They would attract attention in the towns they visited by wearing loud clothes and providing musical entertainment. “One fellow could whistle like a nightingale,” wrote a troupe member, “another sang like an angel, and another played the banjo...[Riley] scuffled along with the violin and guitar.” Reputedly the first to introduce commercial billboards into the American countryside, they would paint advertising for the local businesses on fence posts and the sides of barns.
Riley was also employed in his early twenties by two charlatan doctors who sold patent medicines--”McCrillus’ Tonic Blood Purifier” and Townsend’s “Cholera Balm’ and “Magic Oil.” When Townsend pitched to the crowds from his wagon, Riley’s job was to accompany the talk with blackboard illustrations.... The bottle of cholera balm was sketched with legs and a smile, driving away the Grim Reaper.
Riley authored more than fifty volumes of small-town, sentimental, humorous poetry that was widely popular in his day—both as adult and as children’s literature—and earned him admission to the American Academy of Arts and Letters in 1911.
He was born in 1849 in Greenfield, Indiana, and died in Indianapolis in 1916. A poor student who disliked school, he was scorned by his lawyer father who, Riley wrote, “had little use for a boy who could not learn arithmetic.” Riley adde that his father’s low opinion was shared by “half the town” and that “Again and again I was told I would have to be supported by the family.”
His resentment only deepened as his contemptuous father lost their home and the family was forced to relocate into ever more squalid houses, eventually ending up with his father’s unwelcoming mother. Riley’s own mother was the comfort of his life, and he blamed his father for her untimely death when he was twenty—in an ‘inhospitable place” and, lacking money for a coffin, “buried in a shroud.” After his careers as a sign painter and huckster, Riley began working at a succession of newspapers in 1873, with a brief interruption for an unsuccessful law clerkship with his father. He credited his time in “the reportorial rooms” (through which the “world with its excellence and follies flows”) with any wisdom he acquired.
He has the nickname “The Hoosier Poet.”
A real Turmerican.
I once bought a valueless hard-cover at Pegasus, the used bookstore on Shattuck, Gypsy, which was entitled Armazindy by Riley. No illustrations. Just poetry.
WE DEFER THINGS
We say and we say and we say,
We promise, engage, and declare,
Till a year from tomorrow is yesterday,
And yesterday--is where?
A FEW OF THE BIRD FAMILY
The old Bob-white and Chipbird;
The Flicker, and Chee-wink,
And the little hopty-skip bird
Along the river-brink.
The Blackbird, and Snowbird'
The Chicken-hawk, and crane;
The glossy old black Crow-bird,
And Buzzard down the lane.
The Yellow-bird, and Redbird,
The Tom-tit, and the Cat;
The Thrush, and thatRedhead-bird
The rest's all pickin' at!
The Jay-bird, and the Bluebird,
The Sap-suck, and the Wren--
The Cockadoodle-doo-bird,
And our old settin' hen!
I gave the volume to Bevin quite a while ago.
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zBrown
Ice climber
Brujò de la Playa
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I surfed Swami's with his son, Dobie McCrillus. We thought it was hash oil.
Moondoggie, shares a brown eye. Good thing he's local.
Note the "moon" eyes on this flaming woody.
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mouse from merced
Trad climber
The finger of fate, my friends, is fickle.
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Mon! That is so what Updike said.
You dig?
I'll back-fill.
You fight?
I'll defend your right.
Dobie and Maynard were best friends
They never left us with no loose ends
All of their stories
And all of their glories
Are shown to us weekly through the lens
circa 1959-60.[Click to View YouTube Video]
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Gnome Ofthe Diabase
climber
Out Of Bed
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[Click to View YouTube Video]
Crazy who won the Second world war anyway?
German Mexican Girl!
Thinks me Crazy!! Do you knott ? ( there I got one,! And Went back to here and split the post)
Crazy split Infinitive as well as a what if They had won or snore it is just German Mariachie music!
1956 Chevy Nomade, 'Delivery' Wagon!
Silver slightly raised back , racing slicks, and a blower on the hood.
Now I chased a rig like the one above down, with the whole family in the car, and took pics on a cellphone.( one not as nice as the one above)
In typical tech witless style, I have not figured how to down load photos from the phone , Yet!
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mouse from merced
Trad climber
The finger of fate, my friends, is fickle.
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"Lady without address on."
Whoo-hoo!Someone's awake!
Da Gnome is up and online!
This is addressed to Gypsy.
Consider it an open letter, though.
It references several people in the previous few pages and lots more in the Ol' C4 Photos, etc. Thread.
FORWARD TO RECIPIENT?
This is a bit weird.
I have in front of me the address book which my ex and I kept dating back to our days living in Yosemite.
Names from the past must begin with that of George and Clair Sykes, living in Inverness.
Upthread George and Clair were mentioned and I had forgotten they were together.
Another name from Marin, that of Sheila Slattery, then of Mill Valley is across the page from an
entry which has Sue’s name crossed out, for Sue & Molly & Sheila on Hugo someplace...
Then Laurie Stuart in Anchorage, above Pat Stewart, recently here, but like Dylan, he’s not here.
And it’s Stuart. Dolores was a way-lazy speller but she kept track of the address book AND the check book.
Why Sierra Designs rates, who knows and who cares?
I never called them in my life.
Page back one page to the R page.
Doug Ross, who led half the Salathe with me in ‘74, is shown as living with Helen West,
the computer-room boss at TNF;
then he shows up in Palo Alto and that’s the last address for him.
He helped design and construct the new store in SF for TNF in Stonestown in ‘74
and that’s about the last I heard of him.
I had the job at TNF that he vacated at the Telly retail store.
Doug Robinson, a promising young writer, to whom I promised to send a book about skiing
written by some old English bloke, Lunn, Sir Arnold Lunn.
Lunn never skied with Bond, James Bond, and I don’t have either in the book.
We Flames do know how to keep secrets, ThoroughPie.
You never were included in some of the more tawdry business to which we attended.
You can’t tell everyone the recipe for the beans.
Then good old Ron West, the country DJ from Oxnard, who turned me on to Jamie Brockett.
And who used to throw us demo LPs for free.
(He was our only weed connection in ‘73 down there.)
THEN...
The Hamms, the Hamm-Floreses, too.
Hames Road, Aptos, or the Hamms on Hames--“south county out Freedom Blvd!” is the notation.
Then on to Wilkes Circle, Santa Cruz.
And arrows lead across the page to Patrick Stuart, S.C.
And a mish-mashy mess, made chaotic by crossing-outs and more arrows, it’s all c/o Philosophy Dept. UCSB, etc.
Felton’s in there, too, for Randy & Gypsy...of course they are on the R page!
Above it is Randy’s Long Beach address on Brayton.
Above Randy is dearly-beloved Annie Rizzi, living on Oxford in Berkeley.
Chris Perry, ranger, went to San Diego.
We had her folks’ address in PV Estates. Whoo-hoo!
Pat and Peter (RIP), followed our move to Sparks, NV.
Malcum & Patty on Agua Fria Rd., still there.
Marian H., who used to have a thing for Tom Carter when she was “maiding it.”
When Dolores worked as a maid, they were roommates because they had known each other
from living in Oxnard.
That was after we had gotten together for a short long-distance romance when she
was an impressionable teen and I was just as impressionable.
She had to move when her mother did,
so she lived for a time in Oxnard after attending Hollywood High. Whoo-hoo!
When she graduated she went to live with her sister Cheri and her surfing pump installer, Ike.
But I digress.
Are we back up to speed?
There’s Cowboy Larry and Chrissie at Wawona,
but getting mail at the PO in the Valley where they held jobs.
And the Rev, Jeff, Jefe, the Muskrat, all over the place—from YNP GD, to YNP PO Box, then Bishop.
Jeff moved to Tom’s Place, so I guess at the time this book became out-dated,
he’d moved there and then to Sunset Inn,
then to a cabin down by the river in Groveland,
and then to a trailer near Groveland,
where he wrangled constantly with his lazy-ass roomie,
the Commodore, John,
actually a dis-comoder.
This is sounding worse and worse.
Like when the toilet’s stopped up and the effluvia’s swirlin’,
and you just KNOW it’s not gonna stop
so you run for the mop
but it’s too late, baby,
it’s too late,
etc.
Ron West gave us a copy of a Carole King eight-track with that song.
I felt like it belongs in the men’s room scene.
It ended up in a dumpster behind a store in Saticoy.
Jeff? Oh, he settled in Greeley Hill, at last.
I can digress with the best of them. Whoo-hoo!
Dennis Miller? At the Alpine Shop on Blackstone in Fresno.
You must mean Millis, honey.
No, I mean that shifty, lying worm who...oh! He’s just such a chauvinist!
She had no sense of taste in men. I understand that now.
Groovy Tom Mann, who worked with me in the retail store on Telly,
run by good old Tom Applegate.
Trine Bech (who shows up later) the Norwegian Nightmare, aka Trine Bitch,
for her tongue was sharp as the lignostone edges on her Bonnas,
or the crust on a re-frozen ski trail,
but she was in Ned Gillette’s class as a graceful skier.
She almost never lost a chance to come running straight for the group,
then stopping and hopping to a standstill.
Oddly, she was never a great tele-skier,
but she could tell you off in a hurry.
She spoke quite well and her accent was “adorable.”
(Note to Wayne Merry, who employed her at YMS—this is the retail bunny,
not the snow-honey Ski Instructor.
You must realize that she treated her clients much differently than us peons.)
Laurel Platin, Sebastapol, and Lee and Michael Lalone, Fresno.
Legal Society of Washoe County?
Lowa Boots.
Larry Jones, the scuz-master, Flames Emeritus, all over the East Bay.
IRS, Reno?
Marc Irwin, Dolores’ little bro, and their estranged pappa, Robert, of Quebec.
Bruce and Cathy Hamilton, he of the Vector Equilibrium tents, she of the BART (an certified electrician, so no waiting for Bruce).
Ron and Barb Hamann, he a LEO, she a waitress at the Four Seasons.
Mary Beth Harder, who I guess worked at the desk in the Lodge with Dolores.
Mark Hannel, who was employed by me at the Factory Outlet,
then he went on to take the new FO in Palo Alto as manager, later replaced by Marc Irwin.
Fritz Willie? No idea.
Nancy E., who went to work for Hap Klopp in the old office at Fifth and Gilman, next to the FO.
She and Dave Beck (not Bech and not the Dave Beck who wrote the XC Touring book),
but Dave the airplane mechanic and pilot were real good friends of ours.
Nanner and Dolores both worked at the Cost Plus in Jack London Square.
They went to Alaska and left much of their stuff in our basement in El Sobrante.
They were testing the waters there for work and lifestyle.
They came back after just one season, having had enough of the cold, and settled in the East Bay.
Dick Ellsworth in Seattle and McKinley Park, AK
Craig Evans, who worked in the shop and had hiked from Mentons up through the entire Alps.
Howard Elliott, who was a roommate in Apathy House, pre-Yosemite.
Here’s a good one:
Find out everything...478-9600, no area code, though!
How ya gonna find out anything if you don’t have the area code?
It was back in the time when the East Bay AC covered more territory.
It’s probably the same as it ever was for the Oakland area.
Lynette Davis? Never heard of her... :0)
Dump, Par Blvd, Richmond. Sounds about right.
That gives me a good idea...excuse me, will you?
There, that’s more like it.
Dan Ake, Tom & Linda Applegate, Trine Bech,
and the Better Business Bureau are nearly anti-climactic right now.
There is one here, spelled Drucquer’s.
Yes, that’s the pipe shop on University with all the blended tobaccos.
Dolores shopped there...I usually just grabbed some Captain Black back then.
It was cheaper.
We’ve struck the mother lode! Whoo-hoo!
Drucquer’s.
http://atthebackofthehill.blogspot.com/2011/06/drucquer-sons-ltd-berkeley-institution.html
A listing for the Egg Shop & Apple Press, Peet’s, and Aladdin’s Coffee in Oakland.
That’s about all.
Except for Steve and Peggy,
the pie-throwing pair of love-birds who’ve been together since high school.
San Jose.
Watsonville.
Eureka. More gold!
Chico.
SF.
The Whole Earth Store. Like, where is the find everything place, man?
I don’t know the answer, but you might try Merced.
It’s where everything starts: Downtown Merced, CA. 95340
Steve Roper was right, to a point:
"Only through climbing can you find yourself...bulls-eye like that."
--Valley Uprising.
To that, I might add that BITD, only with your trusty address book could you find your climbing friends.
Now it's all Smart Phones.
Throwpie's old address on 19th St., back when he had a real man's job. :0)
And 'roids as a result.
And the missing Flame, John Yeates, who married Sha'a'la, aka Shala,
aka Doctor Yeates (if she kept her married name).
And a handy map to their place in Virginia City, NV.
They lived near Bromund's Art Gallery, B and Mill...hmmm. I never heard of this guy.
Tough, but here's one of Cal Bromund's paintings, on EBay.
This Nevada vista depicts a hot August afternoon in a dry harvested field.
It was along the old narrow 2-lane U.S. 395 highway that ran between Carson City and Minden next to the V&T railroad track.
Now it's a 4-lane freeway
http://reno.craigslist.org/art/4854849849.html
Check this out, MooseDrool.
Minden, NV. Whoo-hoo!
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Gypsy
Social climber
NC
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Lots more to say but I have to go have my annual check up at the doc's; so back later.
Lynette Davis? Never heard of her... :0)
my sister back when she was still married to John. But she left him; moved to Yosemite at my enouragement. Worked at Degnan's and hung out with Jeff Mathis for a while. Then moved on to Hawaii at some point. Now in Santa Barbara.
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neebee
Social climber
calif/texas
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hey there say, gypsy... hope the yearly check up turns out very well...
:)
say mouse, happy good morning, :)
nice shares, again, from many of you all, with the surfing, too, :)
among others...
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Gnome Ofthe Diabase
climber
Out Of Bed
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Bob who was witsenhausen would be 53, already, His hero and that of others not just a Gangsta, But, The BOB who was wasted every hour woulda be 70 to day
Happy day your mamma split n' spit ya , BOB Marley (rip)
[Click to View YouTube Video]
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Gnome Ofthe Diabase
climber
Out Of Bed
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Split INFINITIVES split infinity plus two finnies for a fog!
give me liberty, bold and fresh, Or I dine in deedest Jamaca Town tonite.
Spit out the definition of the grammatical mistake;
For the Decay thread. . .
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mouse from merced
Trad climber
The finger of fate, my friends, is fickle.
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Is that parked down by the river?
[Click to View YouTube Video]There's somethin' goin' on here...
Earlier before the sun came up,
When BITD the milk man came up,
Left some cottage cheese and skim milk,
Got back in his mobile office,
Checked off the delivery,
Then moved the truck ahead fifty feet,
Got the neighbors' order ready,
Strolled up to their door,
Took the empties (we had none that morning),
Left their order, etc.
Captain Beefheart/Safe As Milk
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ri7wC_g5M84
Blue Day, not Green Day!
I may be hungry
But I shore ain't weird.
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mouse from merced
Trad climber
The finger of fate, my friends, is fickle.
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What's all this I hear about Ingratitude for Thanks, anyway?--Emily Littela
The Explorer Posts, or The Flames
In gratitude I bow my head
And thank the Lord for where He's led.
I found this bunch of crazy guys
Who love to climb into the skies.
They think like me, but hardly all,
And help me out if I fall.
Based on just one page, ending in post #5,000 of The Flames,and the page just beyond,
I’d like to thank the following for being kind to me, kinda or in a big way.
Mom always made us pen thank you notes for gifts sent in the mail,
especially, because they were such nice people to have taken the time to do so.
neebee, the doo-dahs will be in the mail today, and I thank you in return,
so that makes me one up, shaddokiddo, but who's really doing the counting? :0)
And just off the cuff,
because you likely have helped someone out by now, this time of day,
a real big family-style hug :0)
Looking for your mailing address
caused me to look at my old address book,
leading to that share.
Nice little side trail, that.
Thank you, Jimmie Fallon,
and Thank you,
National Park Service
Sheb Wooley
Will Rogers
T Hocking
the comedy team of Allen and Keaton
the comedy team of Bruce Jenner and Bruce Lee
George Everest
Levon Helm
Larry the Cable Guy
the entire sea lion population of the West Coast
the dynamic singing duo of Bob Dylan and Timid TopRope
Chief Dan George
Midnight Lightning
Red Hot Chili Peppers
Batso
Cowboy Larry
Dillis Millis
the Rev
Alex Honnolove
Slow Hand
the brewers of Negra Modelo
the parental team of Boomer and Bobbye Bermingham
Lauretta Puglizevich
my sweetie Liz and feralfae
the Sopwith Camel
Cmac
Old Lodgeskins aka Chief Dan
the Lord Above
Patrick SwayzeThat's just for laughs, Patrick Sawyer.
You need some, brother.
Thanks for sharing your woes and what joys you may have.
And I'm glad your topical drought's over at last!
[Click to View YouTube Video]
[Click to View YouTube Video]
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